i-NRLF 


R    3    33^    656 


IN 
Rabbi   Isado 


WHEN  A  SOUL  SINGS 


WHEN  A  SOUL  SINGS 

POEMS 


BY 

PHILIP  M.  RASKIN 

Author   of    "Songs   of   a   Jew,"    "Songs    of   a   Wanderer,' 
"Songs  and  Dreams,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

THOMAS  SELTZER 
1922 


Copyright,  1922,  by 
THOMAS  SELTZEE,  INC. 

All  rights  reserved 
IN  MEMORIAM 

^  Adore.    L5 


PRINTED   IN   THE   UNITED   STATES   OF   AMERICA 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  POET i 

GENIUS 2 

IN  PURSUIT 3 

A  PRAYER 5 

THE  LAST  CONQUEST      .......  7 

PROGRESS 8 

STORIES 9 

THE  ROAD n 

FAR  AWAY 12 

FLOWERS 13 

SUNSET 14 

RAIN  THROUGH  SUNSHINE 15 

BEAUTY 16 

SUNSHINE 17 

NIGHT 18 

GIVE  ME  YOUR  HAND 19 

THE  BREEZES 20 

WAVES 22 

I  WILL  STAY  OUT     . 23 

RIVALS    .     .     .     . 24 

THE  SECRET 26 

A  FLOWER-SOUL 27 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  STORM 29 

A  FLOWER-FIELD  IN  TENNESSEE            ,     .     .  32 

v 


943986 


PAGE 


WOMAN 34 

A  WAGER 35 

STELLA         .     .     »     .     .     . 36 

HEREDITY    .....*.....  37 

IN  A  CAR .  38 

Is  LOVE  RESTFUL?     ........  40 

ONCE  SHE  WAS 41 

WHAT  HAS  BECOME  OF  THE  ROSE?     ...  42 

A  SHORT  LIFE 44 

UNCONSOLABLE 45 

JUST  A  DROP  OF  RAIN 46 

TOYS 47 

HAPPINESS 48 

MY  DAYS    .     .     .     .     j 49 

THE  BIG  FALL 50 

COURAGE 51 

A  WOUNDED  EAGLE 52 

APOLOGIA 54 

WHY? 56 

CAN  You? 58 

MY  BOAT 59 

THE  CITY    .  .60 

UNINVITED 62 

IN  A  SUMMER  NIGHT 63 

A  JEWISH  MOTHER 65 

EASTERN   LULLABY 67 

LOVERS   ............  68 

NOTHING  MORE 70 

LOVE 71 

A  SPARK  FROM  A  WINDOW     ......  72 

vi 


PAGE 

LILIES  THAT  FADE     .     .     .     .     .     /     .     .73 

WORTH  WHILE     .........  74 

FOR  THE  MESSIAH       ........  76 

THE  FOUR  POINTS .  81 

THE  BOOK       ..'...    ;.     .     ....  82 

"ELUL" '..*..  84 

A  JEALOUS  GOD     .........  85 

MY  GOD 86 

WHITE  AND  BLUE       ........  87 

To  OUR  PIONEERS 88 

A  SEMITE 90 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  PEDDLER 91 

EXILE 93 

THE  ESROG •     •     -  95 

THE  PEDDLER-PRINCE       .......  97 

MESSIAH 99 


vn 


THE  POET 

There  is  an  hour  of  twilight — 

Half  gloom,  half  light ; 
And  in  that  hour  the  heaven 

And  earth  unite. 

And  in  that  hour  whoever 

Of  God  is  worth 
Can  clasp  a  piece  of  heaven 

And  stay  on  earth. 

One  day  I  watched  the  sunset 

In  trance  sublime, 
And  heard  a  distant  echo 

''Now  is  the  time!" 

And  straight  came  down  from  heaven 

A  glowing  dart, 
And  pierced  with  heaven's  fire 

My  earthly  heart. 

Since  then  my  heart  in  twilight 

To  light  gives  birth, 
Since  then  I  fire  with  heaven 

Men's  hearts  on  earth. 


GENIUS 

If  I  were  to  name  what  is  nameless  within  me, 

The  uttermost,  intimate,  infinite  in  me, 

That  moves  me  and  thrills  me,  my  blood  sets  on  fire, 

And  kindles  with  passion  my  will,  my  desire, 

That  gives  my  soul  wings  that  it  may  in  its  flight 

Bring  heaven  to  earth  from  the  uppermost  height ; 

If  I  were  to  name  that  mysterious  power 

That  makes  me  see  worlds  in  a  dewdrop  or  flower, 

That  makes  me  behold  in  to-day's  sun-lit  morn 

The  gold  and  the  crystal  of  mornings  unborn  ; 

That  lets  me  decipher  the  tongue  of  the  wave, 

And  bids  me  see  life  sprouting  forth  from  the  grave; 

The  force  that  gives  meaning  to  objects  around, 

That  I  might  express  them  in  word  and  in  sound, 

The  riddle  of  genius — that  gift  from  above — 

One  name  I  would  give  it — and  that  would  be  love! 


IN  PURSUIT 

I  will  run  after  youth  in  its  vanishing  wake, 

I  will  run,  and  maybe,  I  will  youth  overtake, 
I  will  beg  it  and  pray : 
Oh  stay  with  me,  stay 
One  more  spring,  one  more  day, 

For  dismal  like  autumn,  and  cold  is,  in  truth, 

A  life  void  of  youth. 


I  will  run  to  my  dreams  on  their  vanishing  track, 
I  perchance  will  persuade  them  to  come  to  me  back. 

I  will  say :  stay  a  while, 

And  just  frolic  and  smile, 

Life  is  dry,  life  is  vile — 
And  of  life  but  a  blossomless  desert  is  left 
Of  dreams  when  bereft. 


I  will  run  after  faith — that  mysterious  boat, 
That  has  kept  me  of  yore  on  the  life-sea  afloat ; 

I  will  say  in  my  grief 

To  my  childhood's  belief, 

See,  a  tempest-tossed  leaf 

I  am  cast  up  and  down  without  purpose  or  goal 
With  a  God-empty  soul. 

3 


I  will  run  after  love  that  is  stealing  away, 
And,  unbaring  my  heart,  will  entreat  it  to  stay. 

Oh,  how  can  you  depart 

From  such  love-yearning  heart, 

When  you  are  not  a  part 

Of  myself,  but  the  whole,  yea  the  whole,  just  the  whole 
Of  my  body  and  soul !  .  .  . 


A  PRAYER 

God,  hast  known  me 
When  I  was  a  lad ; 

Did  I  anger  Thee? 
Was  I  ever  bad? 

Did  I  fight  or  tease 
Like  the  other  boys? 

All  my  mates  were  trees, 
Flowers  were  my  toys. 

And  my  mates  were  good, 
And  my  toys  gave  joy, 

For  the  field  and  wood 
Loved  the  dreamy  boy. 

God,  it  may  seem  strange 
I  should  doubt  Thy  plan, 

But  what  made  Thee  change 
Boy  into  a  man  ? 

Can  I  keep  up  pace 

With  the  street  and  mart, 
I — a  man  by  face, 

And  a  child  by  heart? 
5 


Look  how  men  around 
Pass  me  mute  and  cold, 

I  with  golden  sound, 

They  with  sound  of  gold. 

Am  I  made  to  hate  ? 

Was  I  ever  wild? 
God,  if  not  too  late — 

Make  me  back  a  child.  . 


THE  LAST  CONQUEST 

I  dreamt  I  scaled  a  mountain  peak, 

A  giant  there  I  stood ; 
I  heard  a  voice  within  me  speak 

That  thrilled  my  blood. 

"Oh  cast  your  glances  wide  and  far, 

As  far  as  you  can  see, 
Behold  the  sky,  the  moon,  the  star, 

The  land  and  sea. 

"Behold  the  triumphs  of  your  mind — 
The  heights  and  peaks  you  scaled, 

The  hearts  of  rocks,  the  oceans  blind, 
Their  mysteries  unveiled. 

"The  conquered  space,  the  harnessed  light, 
The  waves  transmitting  sound ; 

You  struggled  and  you  won  the  fight, 
You  sought  and  found. 

"You  catalogued  each  star,  each  sun, 

Like  volumes  on  a  shelf ; 
One  conquest  more — and  you  have  done — 

The  conquest  of  yourself.  ..." 


PROGRESS 

Through  night  and  through  storm  we  are  slowly 

emerging 
From  the  black  sea  of  life  that  around  us  is  surging. 

Be  Prometheus  still  bound  to  the  rock  of  his  fate, 
The  flame  he  brought  down  a  new  dawn  will  create. 

Be  the  earth  still  engulfed  in  the  shadow  of  night — 
Love  will  be  victor,  and  triumph  will  light. 

The  seed  sown  today  a  future  day  gathers; 
The  sun  of  the  son  is  brighter  than  father's. 

The  smiles  that  today  are  drowned  in  our  tears 
Are  turned  into  pearls  in  the  ocean  of  years. 


STORIES 

Oh  Grandmother,  tell  me 
The  tale  of  the  maiden 
Whom  pirates  hold  captive 

And  chained  in  a  cave, 
The  years  keep  on  rolling, 
But  faithful  her  lover 
The  wide  world  is  roaming 

His  sweetheart  to  save. 

Oh  tell  me  the  story — 

The  witch  and  her  caldron, 

And  dragons  emerging, 

Enormous  and  wild  ; 
But  one  day  when  finding 
A  babe  in  the  bushes, 
The  brutes  become  cherubs 

And  rescue  the  child. 

Oh  tell  me  the  story — 

The  maiden  whom  witchcraft 

Once  turned  to  a  vampire 

Who  men  did  ensnare, 
But  many  years  later 
When  meeting  her  lover — 
The  hag  became  woman, 

And  womanly  fair. 
9 


Oh  tell  me  the  story — 
The  beautiful  orphan 
Whose  stepmother  cruel 

Left  lone  in  a  wood ; 
How  tigers  and  lions 
Have  shielded  the  baby, 
And  nursed  her,  and  taught  her 

The  human  and  good. 

Oh  Grandmother,  tell  me 
The  stories  of  childhood, 
Where  good  conquers  evil 

And  foe  yields  to  friend ; 
In  life  too  I  oft  hear 
These  wonderful  stories — 
But  hear  their  beginning — 

Alas,  not  their  end ! 


10 


THE  ROAD 

Heave  no  sigh  for  things  undone, 
For  the  prize  you  might  have  won ; 
Don't  bewail  the  yester-sun  ; 
All  your  yesterdays  are  gone — 
Gone! 

Are  you  ready  for  today? 
Roads  are  stretching  far  away  ; 
You  will  stumble,  you  will  stray, 
You  will  have  to  pay  your  way — 
Payl 

Mate  thy  staff  and  guide  thy  star ; 
Bush  or  stone  be  not  thy  bar ; 
How  we  fight  is  what  we  are; 
Let  your  aim  be  onward  far — 
Far! 


II 


FAR  AWAY 

Far  away,  far  away,  where  the  cloud  meets  the  sea, 
There  are  heaven-hid  treasures  for  you  and  for  me ; 
On  that  emerald  isle  where  the  sun  never  sets, 
Where  the  heart  all  the  wrongs  of  our  earth-life 

forgets, 

Far  away,  on  that  golden-lit  isle  in  the  East 
No  serpent  of  envy,  no  jealousy-beast 
Will  ever  endanger  our  peaceful  abode. 
But  stormy  and  long  to  that  isle  is  the  road, 
For  to  reach  that  fair  isle  we  onward  must  go, 
We  must  heed  not  the  ebb,  and  must  fear  not  the  flow, 
And  the  mist  and  the  gale  we  must  greet  with  a  smile, 
For  none  but  the  fearless  inhabit  that  isle. 


12 


FLOWERS 

Stretches  of  violet,  daisy  and  pansy, 
Primrose  and  poppy — I  see  from  afar; 

Do  not  the  angels  look  downward  and  fancy 
Earth  is  illumined  with  rainbow  and  star  ? 

God  made  them  all  when  He  felt  in  good  humor- 
Star-spangled  heaven  and  flower-decked  sod, 

That  is  why  passing  a  field  in  the  summer 
I  see  the  smile  of  a  satisfied  God. 


SUNSET 

Here  I  stand  by  the  shore  all  alone,  all  alone, 

And  I  watch  the  sun  die  in  yon  dim-growing  zone ; 

Watch  the  ringlets  of  gold  fall  and  melt  in  the  stream, 

Pale  and  lone  I  look  on,  as  I  dream  my  sad  dream. 

Do  I  pity  the  day  to  eternity  gone? 

Do  I  fear  that  black  raven — the  night  coming  on  ? 

Do  I  hear  in  the  wind — in  its  cold-throbbing  breath 

The  sad  echo  of  fate  that  is  murmuring :  death ! 

Do  I  see  in  the  sunset  my  youth's  dying  beam  ? 

Pale  and  lone  I  look  on,  and  I  dream  my  sad  dream. 


RAIN  THROUGH  SUNSHINE 

Rain  through  sunshine  .  .  .  Blue  and  deep 
Girlish  skies  that  smile  and  weep ; 
Waft  their  bubbled  magic  rings — 
Pearly  beads  on  opal  strings — 
From  a  cherub's  wings. 

Rain  through  sun  ...  From  skyey  eaves 
Crystals  fall  on  blades  and  leaves, 
Down  the  rivulet  and  spring 
Playing  in  a  golden  ring 
In  the  breeze  aswing. 

Rain  through  sunshine  .  .  .  Wide  and  far 
Bead  on  bead  and  star  on  star — 
Little  fairies  blue  and  white 
Bathe  in  streams  of  molten  light — 
Silver-winged  and  bright. 

Rain  through  sun  .    .   .  On  high,  behold, 
Floats  a  ladder  steeped  in  gold ; 
I  will  climb  it  ...  one  by  one 
Scale  its  rungs  and  reach  the  sun — 
Ere  my  day  is  done.  .  .  . 


BEAUTY 

I  was  waylaid  by  beauty  ...  the  forest  around, 

The  vales  and  the  mountains  above, 
Were  aglow  and  athrill  with  bloom  and  with  sound 

And  breathing  with  life  and  with  love  .  .  . 

I  was  waylaid  by  beauty  .  .  .  My  heart  standing  still, 

Enraptured  with  wonder  and  glee; 
The  flocks — little  elves — gliding  down  from  the  hill, 

The  valley — a  phosphor-lit  sea.  .  . 

I  was  waylaid  by  beauty  .  .  .  Then  saw  the  sun  hide, 
As  it  mantled  the  earth  in  dark-grey  .    .   . 

And  I  bitterly  cried  for  the  day  that  had  died, 
For  the  beauty  that  lived  but  a  day  .  .  . 


16 


SUNSHINE 

I  hopped  out  of  bed  this  morning, 
With  the  dawn  I  was  awake  ; 

And  the  sun  without  a  warning 
Caught  and  brought  me  to  the  lake. 

Here  I  watch  the  sky  begilding 
Silver  waves  with  golden  beams, 

And  my  heart  is  building,  building 
Golden  castles  of  my  dreams. 

Here  I  watch  the  golden  fishes 
As  they  frightless  shoreward  dart, 

And  my  golden  hopes  and  wishes 
Dart  like  fishes  in  my  heart. 

Nest  with  nest  in  song  are  meeting, 
Bird  to  bird  is  giving  word ; 

And  my  heart  I  hear  repeating 
All  the  bird  songs  like  a  bird. 

Rills  are  laughing,  trees  are  glowing  ; 

I  am  young,  and  strong,  and  proud  , 
Trees  are  glowing,  I  am  growing — 

One  day  I  shall  reach  the  cloud. 


NIGHT 

The  moon  with  fairy  fingers 
Has  touched  my  ear  and  eye; 

A  phantom  song  and  singers 
I  hear  and  see  on  high. 

On  every  path  and  turn 
The  fairies  of  the  night 

Are  shedding  from  an  urn 
A  purple-perfumed  light. 

And  fragrance-full  and  free  is 
The  blue  expanse  around, 

And  audible  to  me  is 

Each  breath  of  silent  sound. 

And  gaily-melancholy 
A  voice  from  star  to  star 

Calls:  holy!  holy!  holy! 

Through  spaceless  space  afar. 


18 


GIVE  ME  YOUR  HAND  .  .  . 

Give  me  your  hand — let  us  wander, 
Roaming  past  rivers  and  streams; 

Somewhere,  they  tell  me,  a  streamlet 
Murmurs  of  beautiful  dreams. 

Give  me  your  hand — let  us  wander 
High  up  the  mountains  above, 

Somewhere  a  rill  from  a  mountain 
Flows  with  perennial  love. 

Give  me  your  hand — let  us  wander 
Far  where  the  night-breezes  blow; 

Maybe  to  us  they  will  whisper 

Where  fadeless  the  youth-blossoms  grow. 

Give  me  your  hand — let  us  wander — 

Yond  the  horizon  seems  fair, 
Happiness  somewhere  is  hiding — 

Some  day  we  may  find  out  where.  .  .  . 


THE  BREEZES 

Shall  I  tell  you  why  the  breezes 

I  do  know  so  well  ? 
If  you  promise  that  my  secret 

You  shall  never  tell. 

In  my  heart  once  bloomed  a  garden 

Watered  from  above, 
In  that  garden  grew  a  lily 

Men  on  earth  call  love. 

But  one  day  the  evening  breezes 

Plucked  my  lily  fair, 
Then  I  caught  and  made  the  breezes 

Promise  me  and  swear 

That  they  would  its  seed  and  blossoms 

Scatter  far  apart 
So  that  little  fragrant  lilies 

Grow  in  many  a  heart. 

Now  when  twilight  comes  they  gather — 

For  they  kept  their  oath — 
And  they  whisperingly  tell  me 

Of  my  lily's  growth. 

20 


How  in  hearts  with  grief  o'ergrown 
And  bestrewn  with  care, 

Little  lilies  weed  our  worries 
Growing  sweet  and  fair. 

This  is  why  I  know  the  breezes 

Of  the  field  and  grove, 
For  they  tell  me  of  my  lily 

Men  on  earth  call  love.  .  . 


21 


WAVES 

Here  I  stand  and  watch  the  main — 
And  how  strangely  it  behaves ! 

Wave  is  chasing  wave  in  vain — 
Who  can  tell  the  play  of  waves  ? 

Why  this  hurry  and  this  strife? 

Whither  thou,  oh  nameless  wave? 
Is  the  sea  thy  source  of  life? 

Is  it  thy  abysmal  grave? 

Am  I,  wave,  of  thee  a  part? 

Or  art  thou  a  part  of  me? 
Is  the  sea  a  human  heart? 

Or  my  heart — a  human  sea? 


22 


I  WILL  STAY  OUT 

I  will  stay  out  till  morning, 
The  moon  is  on  the  sea, 

I  will  stay  out  till  morning, 
The  moon  is  good  to  me. 

The  moon  can  tell  a  story, 
The  moon  can  sing  a  song 

Of  moon-lit  nights  once  cherished, 
Of  nights  forgotten  long. 

I  will  stay  out  till  morning 

Until  the  sun  arrives — 
Not  every  night  is  moon-night, 

Not  every  dream  survives. 
(On  the  Aquitania  near  France) 


RIVALS 

Yes,  I  love  you, 

But  you  have  rivals — 

Of  my  shipwrecked  youth  survivals. 

Flowers 

Born  in  twilight  hours, 

When  heaven  woos  and  wins  our  earth, 

Who  from  their  birth 

Live  half  way 

'Twixt  plant  and  fay — 

I  love  them,  for  I  know  them  well, 
And  many  a  charming  tale 
These  little  rainbows  of  the  vale 

To  me  in  childhood  used  to  tell. 

Stars 

Across  the  azure  bars, 

That  often  waylaid  me  by  night, 

And  lifted  me  from  off  the  sod 

On  stairs  of  pale-blue  light 

Towards  the  garden-paths  of  God.  .  .  . 

Larks, 

These  purple  sparks 
Darting  through  the  air, 
Light,  and  blithe,  and  fair, 

24 


Pouring  out  from  their  bosom 
Raptured  rhapsodies  of  blossom, 
And  shaking  off  their  wing 
A  new-born  spring.  .  . 

Woods 

In  all  their  moods 

Of  dawn,  and  dusk,  and  light,  and  shade, 

With  hue  of  leaf  and  bloom,  and  blade. 

Rills 

Oozing  through  the  hills — 

Blood  from  the  heart  of  a  rocky  giant, 
And  defiant 

Running  amock  by  field  and  glen — 
To  gladden  hearts  of  men. 

Yes,  these  are  your  rivals — and  many  more 

In  sky,  in  air,  on  main  and  shore. 

To  them  too 

I  shall  remain  true, 

For  no  new  love  my  love  for  them  can 

stem; 

And  if  your  pride 
Be  satisfied — 

You  may  share  my  love  with  them. 


THE  SECRET 

Fleeter  than  sunbeam 
Swifter  than  lightning, 
Faster  than  arrow 

Ever  can  dart 
Travels  the  message 
Wordless,  unspoken, 
Lover  sends  lover, 

Heart  sends  to  heart. 

Be  it  unsounded, 
Be  it  unuttered, 
Be  it  unwhispered 

Fearing  the  crowd, — 
Towers  and  mountains, 
Deserts  and  oceans 
Take  up  their  secret, 

Shout  it  aloud. 


26 


A  FLOWER-SOUL 

I  had  a  baby  sister 

Who  scarcely  yet  could  walk, 
And  "Mum,  I  luve  the  gaiden" 

Was  almost  all  her  talk. 


It  was  a  brilliant  summer, 
Our  garden  blossomed  fair, 

And  every  God-lit  morning 
I  found  the  baby  there. 

She  played  with  little  pansies 
Stead  little  girls  and  boys, 

She  loved  the  little  pansies — 
Her  playmates  and  her  toys. 

Then  Autumn  came  with  showers, 
With  chill  and  sullen  skies  ; 

My  darling  baby  sister 
Forever  closed  her  eyes. 

The  pansies,  too,  were  faded, 
The  garden  stood  in  shade  ; 

But  lo!  one  single  pansy 
Refused  to  pale  and  fade. 
27 


It  bloomed  as  in  the  summer, 
It  grew  and  glowed  and  smiled- 

I  knew  it  was  my  sister — 
The  soul  of  a  flower-child. 


28 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  STORM 

Have  you  ever  heard  the  tale 
Of  the  birth  of  Mighty  Gale? 

Once  a  son  of  the  Above 

Cloud  the  Proud 

With  a  daughter  of  the  sea 

Wave  the  Free 

Fell  in  love. 

Now  the  sky 

Is  bright  and  high, 

And  the  sea  is  deep  and  rich, 

But  the  oldest — which  ? 

As  to  this  the  sky  and  sea 

Never  could  agree. 

So  the  parents  did  object 
To  the  bride  and  groom  elect, 
And  the  sea 

Ordered  daughter  Wave  never  hence 
To  see 
Master  Cloud 
Vainly  proud — 

Whose  attentions  gave  offence. 


29 


But  man  in  love  is  undismayed, 
And  brave  in  love — a  lovely  maid, — 
So, 

When  the  skies 

Closed  their  eyes, 

And  the  deep 

Fell  asleep; 

Cloud  and  Wave 

Would  behave 

As  young  lovers  free  and  gay. 

Flirting  she  would  run  away; 

He  with  laughter 

Would  run  after, 

Till  he  caught  her 

And  he  brought  her 

And  he  made  her  stay. 

Then  he  faced  her 

And  embraced  her 

Till  his  shaggy  head  would  rest 
On  her  heaving  foam-white  breast — 
Thus  they  played  till  break  of  day. 

But  at  night  when  the  winds  you  hear  weep, 
While  the  thunders  are  laughing  aloud, 

Sky  and  Sea  are  aroused  from  their  sleep, 
And  are  searching  for  Wave  and  for  Cloud. 

As  they  find  their  children  missing, 
And  detect  them  playing,  kissing 
Hidden  from  all  sight, 
30 


Straight  the  aged 
Grow  enraged, 

And  begin  to  fight. 

The  Sky  gathers  crowds 
Of  lightning-girt  clouds, 

And  orders  them  out  to  the  shore; 
Through  creeks  and  through  caves 
The  sea  sends  her  waves — 

And  Heaven  and  Sea  are  at  war. 

The  armies  engaging 
Are  threatening,  raging, 

To  chaos  the  world  to  transform, 
And  people  in  terror 
Call  always  in  error 

This  heavenly  warfare — a  storm. 


A  FLOWER  FIELD  IN  TENNESSEE 

I  came  to  the  end  of  a  lane 
In  a  village  in  Tennessee, 
And  lo !  by  the  road  in  a  vale 
I  gazed  on  a  flowery  sea! 
Fair  as  fancy 
Violet,  pansy, 
Daffodil,  daisy, 
Wild  and  mazy ! 
Green,  white,  yellow, 
Velvety-mellow, 
Posy  on  posy, 
Ruby  and  rosy — 
Thousands  of  them ! 
Thousands  of  them ! 

Poppies  all  over, 
Hyacinth,  clover, 
Field-wide  scattered, 
Sky-bespattered, 
Sun-besprinkled, 
Pearly-wrinkled, 
Bending,  turning, 
Glowing,  burning — 

Thousands  of  them ! 

Thousands  of  them ! 
32 


Snow-like  drifted, 
Heads  uplifted, 
Sway  and  rollick, 
Play  and  frolic, 
Gay  as  starlings, 
Sun-kissed  darlings, 
Frisking,  waving, 
Sun-light  craving, 

Thousands  of  them ! 

Thousands  of  them ! 
Tall  and  taller, 
Changing  color, 
Rippling  streamlets, 
Strewn  with  beamlets. 
Swaying,  winding, 
Color-blinding, 
Light  as  air  is — 
Dancing  fairies — 

Fairies  of  the  vale. 


33 


WOMAN 

I  sail  in  a  silvery  sea, 

Each  heave  of  the  breeze — a  caress; 
Will  she  come,  will  she  come  to  me  ? — 

My  heart  is  whispering:   yes! 

A  woman's  heart,  like  the  sea, 

Is  changing  with  ebb  and  with  flow  ; 

Will  she  come,  will  she  come  to  me  ? — 
My  heart  is  whispering:   no! 


34 


A  WAGER 

My  heart  and  my  mind  made  a  wager; 

The  heart  said:    to  her  he  shall  go; 
The  mind,  an  experienced  stager — 

Said:  no! 

I  could  not  decide,  but  for  whiling 

Away  the  long  hour — watched  the  sun ; 

It  set  all  aglow  and  all  smiling — 
The  heart  won ! 


35 


STELLA 

Her  voice  so  sweet  and  mellow 
Protection  sought  from  rain, 

So  under  my  umbrella 
I  took  her  'cross  the  lane. 

I  am  a  bashful  fellow, 

Can  well  myself  restrain, 

But  under  the  umbrella — 
Of  course,  I  tried  in  vain. 

I  kissed  her.    To  my  sorrow, 
She  left  me  in  disdain; 

But  on  the  sunny  morrow 
I  Stella  met  again. 

I  shamed  to  speak  to  Stella, 
But  she  just  asked  me  plain : 

"Why  have  you  no  umbrella?— 
It  may  begin  to  rain."  .  .  . 


HEREDITY 

I  wooed  her — and  lost  her;  he  scorned  her — and  won 
her, 

Now  when  I  think  of  it — perhaps  she  was  right  ; 
She  would  have  offspring  brawny,  sturdy, 

With  steely  muscle  and  sinew  tight. 

To  climb  an  oak  or  shoot  an  eagle; 

Be  lost  in  the  forest  without  a  guide ; 
Dig  caves  in  a  creek,  and  in  a  canoe 

Plow  the  waves  and  laugh  at  the  tide. 

Mine  would  have  been  with  brain-stuff  and  soul-stuff, 
Mind-diggers,  pale,  with  dreamy  eyes ; 

I  wooed  her — and  lost  her;   he  scorned  her  and  won 

her, 
Now  when  I  think  of  it — perhaps  she  was  wise. 


37 


IN  A  CAR 

The  night  was  without  a  star.  .  . 

The  trees  were  crouching  in  pain.  .  . 
It  was  beginning  to  rain — 

I  boarded  a  car. 

A  solitary  woman  sat  in  the  car 

Huddled  up  in  a  heavy  coat; 

The  tram  heaved  up  and  down  like  a  boat; 
The  woman's  gaze  was  vacant  and  far. 

I  sat  opposite  her— 

Our  eyes  met. 
She  was  not  fair — 

And  yet — 

At  that  moment  she  was  to  me  very  dear, 

And  it  seemed  to  me  that  she  guessed 

All  that  my  soul  had  oppressed  in  years  long  gone — 

And  was  ready  to  give  me  her  hand — 

What  wonder;   a  woman,  she  could  understand! 

And  if  my  word  be  true, 

There  was  a  moment,  too, 

When  I  was  ready  to  put  my  head 

Into  her  lap,  and  shed 

38 


All  the  tears 
That  have  for  years 
Been  waiting  in  my  breast 
To  escape  and  to  give  me  rest.  .  . 
The  prayer  of  her  gazes  I  heard, 
Yet  dared  not  breathe  a  word, 
Nor  even  a  smile  to  exchange. 
Alas,  so  near  and  yet  so  strange ! 
And  suddenly  the  car  stopped  and  she  was  gone, 
And  I  was  left  alone.  .  .  . 


39 


IS  LOVE  RESTFUL? 

She  stood  in  the  cornfield — a  queen  of  Eve's  daughters, 

Around  her  the  field  all  ablaze. 
The  blue  lake  behind  with  its  clear,  limpid  waters 

As  dreamy  and  calm  as  her  gaze. 

I  asked  if  she  knew  for  the  traveler  a  haven 

Where  night  could  be  restfully  spent; 
She  looked  in  my  eyes — at  my  hair  black  as  raven  ; 

And  pointed  in  smiles  to  her  tent. 

Her  floor  was  with  violets  decked  and  narcisses, 

Her  canvas  as  white  as  her  breast; 
And,  burning  beneath  her  passionate  kisses, 

I  asked  her  if  love  can  give  rest.  .  .  . 


40 


ONCE  SHE  WAS 
(To  K.  S.) 

Once  she  was  the  fairest  lily 

In  the  garden  of  my  dreams, 
And  I  drank  her  perfume  stilly, 

As  a  lily — heaven's  beams  ; 
Then  drew  autumn  dim  and  chilly 

Freezing  summer  streams. 

Autumn  drew — I  needed  fuel, 

Cold  my  heart  had  grown,  forsooth ; 
And  again  my  garden's  jewel 

Came  and  brought  the  scent  of  youth- 
Spring's  revival,  love's  renewal — 
Faith  in  life  and  truth. 

Yes,  she  came,  and  her  arrival, 

Like  the  fabled  magic  ring, 
Touched  my  heart  with  Love's  revival, 

Made  my  soul  of  youth  to  sing, 
Made  a  snowy  head  to  rival 

With  a  heart  of  Spring.  .  .  . 


WHAT  HAS  BECOME  OF  THE  ROSE? 
(Serenade) 

What  has  become  of  the  rose, 
When  summer-days  close? 

I  asked  what  became  of  the  rose ; 
But  your  lips  when  I  saw 
Like  a  spring-blossom  glow— 

I  knew  what  became  of  the  rose. 


Where  is,  oh  where  is  the  lark 
In  winter-nights  dark? 

1  asked  what  became  of  the  lark; 
But  your  voice  when  I  heard 
Like  the  trill  of  a  bird— 

I  knew  what  became  of  the  lark. 


Where  hides  the  sun's  golden  ray, 
When  dead  is  the  day? 

I  searched  for  the  sun's  golden  ray ; 
But  I  looked  at  your  hair 
All  beam-woven  fair — 

And  I  knew  who  had  stolen  the  ray. 


42 


Where  are  the  stars  to  be  found 
That  fall  to  the  ground? 

I  asked  where  the  stars  could  be  found ; 
But  beholding  your  eyes, 
Like  the  star-jeweled  skies — 

I  knew  where  the  stars  could  be  found. 

Where  is  the  peace  and  the  rest 
That  fled  from  my  breast? 

I  searched  for  my  peace  and  my  rest ; 
But  I  thought  of  my  sweet 
Whom  I  never  shall  meet, 

And  I  knew  who  had  stolen  my  rest. 


43 


A  SHORT  LIFE 

See  this  lily  of  the  vale, 

Frail  and  pale, 

Short  its  life,  and  yet  its  tale 

Is  of  love  and  duty. 
How  its  glorious  life  was  spent 
Shedding  scent, 
Making  someone's  heart  content — 

What  a  life  of  beauty ! 

From  the  moment  of  its  birth 

Joy  and  mirth, 

Sweetness  pouring  on  God's  earth 

From  its  fragrant  bosom. 
Would  that  my  life  here  were  too 
Lily-true ; 
Who  would  mind  to  pass  it  through 

Fast  as  this  pale  blossom. 


44 


UNCONSOLABLE 

Do  you  see  this  lonesome  flower 

In  this  autumn  day, 
All  alone  in  wind  and  shower 

Slowly  fade  away; 

Like  an  orphaned  child  forsaken, 

Pale  and  bent  and  frail, 
By  the  angry  tempest  shaken, 

Beaten  by  the  hail. 

Cheer  it  not  with  future  splendor, 
Breeze  and  dew  and  ray; 

What  avails?    The  flower  tender 
Will  not  see  that  day. 


45 


JUST  A  DROP  OF  RAIN 

Just  a  drop  of  rain 
Fell  upon  my  pane, 
Crystal  pure  and  clear 
As  a  baby's  tear. 

"Mother,  tell  me  why 
Does  the  heaven  cry? 
Has  it  day  or  night 
Not  enough  of  light  ?" 

"Nay,  my  child,  the  sky 
Not  for  light  does  cry: 
Those  who  always  shine 
Oft  for  darkness  pine." 


TOYS 

All  of  us  are  little  boys, 
We  are  all  in  need  of  toys. 
Some  will  play  at  "Free  and  Gay," 
Some  will  play  at  "Fast  and  Pray," 
Some  will  chance  the  highest  stake 
For  a  pretty  girl's  sake ; 
Some  will  play  at  "Let  us  Think," 
Some  will  play  at  "Let  us  Drink/' 
Some  will  talk  and  some  will  sing, 
Some  will  play  "My  Lord  and  King,' 
Some  will  play  at  "Shoot  and  Slay," 
But  whatever  play  we  may — 
Mother  Earth  is  calling:   "Boys, 
Long  enough  you've  made  a  noise. 
See,  the  sun  has  hid  its  head ; 
Say  your  prayers,  and  go  to  bed." 


47 


HAPPINESS 

A  horde  of  blind  beggars 
Ashiver  with  cold, 

Half  starving,  but  jealous 
And  greedy  for  gold. 

And  passing  a  man  plays 

A  joke  on  the  blind : 
"A  dollar  I  fling  for 
Whoever  will  find." 

They  wriggle,  they  struggle, 
They  fight  on  the  ground ; 

While  each  thinks  the  other 
The  treasure  has  found. 


MY  DAYS 

Thus  comes  my  day, 
And  thus  it  goes; 

We  meet  as  friends, 
We  part  as  foes. 

Each  day  comes  in 
With  promise  sweet, 

Each  day  steals  out — 
A  cheat,  a  cheat ! 

The  morn  I  bless, 
The  eve  I  curse, 

And  never  can 
I  this  reverse. 


49 


THE  BIG  FALL 

The  mount  of  life  is  high ; 

The  mud  of  life  is  thick; 
Some  men  fall  down  to  die, 

And  some  still  worse — to  stick. 

But  all  are  rolling  down 

The  fatal  muddy  slope; 
Some  yell,  some  whine,  some  frown, 

Some  grasp  the  reed  of  hope. 

But  saddest  of  it  all — 

That  to  the  very  end, 
And  while  they  fall  and  fall — 

They  fancy  they  ascend.  .  . 


COURAGE 

The  raven  night 

Spread  out  its  wings 

O'er  a  starless  sky 

And  loaded  the  air 

With  unf alien  hail. 
Alone  on  the  road, 
On  the  edge  of  a  rock 
He  listened  to  the  moan 
Of  the  wind — or  a  beast. 
Something  was  crouching 
And  crawling  and  whining 
In  the  heap  of  herbage 

By  his  side. 

He  sat  on  the  stone 

And  whistled  a  tune. 


A  WOUNDED  EAGLE 

I  was  young  and  proud; 

I  was  born  eagle-winged  and  I  flew 

High  up  in  the  ethereal  blue 

Above  the  tower,  above  the  cloud.  .  .  , 

And  when 

Looking  down  upon  men, 
Their  struggle  and  their  strife, 
Their  game  called  life — 

I  saw 
The  earth  below 

Growing  red  or  dark, 

I  stole  a  spark 

From  a  sphere  above — 

A  spark  of  truth,  or  faith,  or  love, 

And  flung  it  there  and  then 

Into  the  hearts  of  men, 

Enabling  them  to  tread 

Their  path  of  black  and  red.  .  . 

But  once  in  my  flights 
Through  aerial  heights, 
Fate,  the  hunter,  shot  a  dart, 
And  pierced  my  heart. 
52 


And  bleeding  I  dropped  down 

Into  the  crawling,  struggling  town. 
And  ever  since  that  fall 
On  earth  I  crawl, 
A  wounded  eagle  bound 
To  man  and  ground — 

Since  then  my  skies  are  shut. 
But  eagle  still, 
With  wings  though  cut, 

My  piercing  eyes 

Still  seek  the  skies, 

And  search  above 

For  light  and  love.  .  .  . 


53 


APOLOGIA 

The  sky 

Is  high, 

And  fair  though  far, 
Its  diamond  sun,  its  golden  star, 
Bejewel  day  and  night. 

But  dark  and  cold 

Is  my  lone  room; 
No  stars  of  gold 

Can  drive  its  gloom ; 
Upon  its  wall 

So  dank  and  damp 
The  rays  that  fall 

From  my  dim  lamp — 

By  far,  by  far 
More  precious  are 
Than  sun  and  star 

That  shed  a  flood  of  light. 

The  sea 
Is  free, 

Profound  and  deep; 

Its  wave,  so  brave  when  tempests  sweep, 
In  calm  is  turned  to  gold  ; 
54 


But  when  my  road 

Is  far  from  town; 
My  heavy  load 

So  weighs  me  down, 
Like  molten  ore 

The  summer  day, 
My  foot  is  sore 

And  long  my  way — 
A  brook,  a  breeze 
Will  far  more  please 
And  give  me  ease 

Than  ocean  wide  and  bold. 

Our  earth 
Has  mirth, 

And  love  and  bliss, 

And  woman's  lips  are  made  to  kiss, 

And  blood  is  hot. 
But  tired  and  lone 

The  earth  I  tramp ; 
Give  them  the  sun, 

Give  me  the  lamp ; 
For  them  the  hill, 

The  gale,  the  foam, 
For  me  the  rill — 
A  peaceful  home. 
No  passion  wild, 
No  love  defiled, — 
A  wife,  a  child, 

A  cottage  and  a  cot. 
55 


WHY? 

Yes,  I  should  like  to  know 

Why  the  hours  go, 

And  where  they  go, 

And  why  they  carry  away 

Day  by  day 

Shreds  of  life? 

And  why  this  rush,  and  hue,  and  strife, 

If  I  am  born 

A  tomb  to  adorn  ? 

Born  in  a  lampless  cave, 

A  blind  slave — 

To  toil  and  moil,  and  wait  for  a  grave  ? 

And  why 
Should  my  eye 
See  and  yet  not  see? 
And  my  ear 
Hear 

And  yet  stay  deaf? 
And  what  is  this  sound 
Around, 

Below,  above,  athwart  the  ground — 
Has  this  strange  rhapsody  a  clef? 
And  is  there  a  guide  to  lead  me? 
And  is  there  a  hand  to  feed  me? 
56 


Or  has  my  food — 
Whether  bad  or  good — 
No  need  of  host  or  chef  ? 

And  why  should  a  heart  like  mine 
Pulse  and  throb,  and  long  and  pine, 
And  love,  and  strive,  and  desire — 
To  burn  out  in  an  ashen  fire? 

And  what  is  life  itself? 

A  dusty  book  on  a  shelf 

For  some  magician  to  decipher  ? 

A  foolish  riddle  that  at  best 

Will  in  a  trillion  years  be  guessed, 

When  brain  with  cell  is  rifer? 

A  game  of  ball, 

Where  players  run  and  fall, 

But  never  score  at  all?  ... 

And  as  these  questions  I  did  ask 
Of  life,  its  purpose  and  its  task — 
I  heard  a  voice  within  me  speak — 
Life's  only  purpose  is  to  seek. 


57 


CAN  YOU? 

Can  you  show  me  a  path  in  the  desert, 
Can  you  find  in  the  desert  a  stream? 

Can  you  teach  me  to  love  amidst  hatred, 
Not  to  lose  in  the  darkness  my  dream  ? 

Can  you  kindle  a  torch-light  and  guide  me, 
As  a  mother  would  guide  her  dear  child? 

Can  you  smile  to  me  artlessly — truly 

As  of  yore  in  my  youth  you  have  smiled? 

May  life's  autumn  have  furrowed  my  fore 
head — 

My  heart  is  a  fountain  of  youth ; 
May  falsehood  be  glittering  gold-robed — 

My  soul  is  a  torch-light  of  truth. 

Can  you  gaze  at  me  maidenly-purely, 

Can  you  be  to  me  sisterly-near, 
Can  you  bring  me  a  lily  unpainted, 

And  a  word  that  unhurting  will  cheer  ? 


MY  BOAT 

My  buoyant  youth  is  shipwrecked, 
And  sunk  beneath  life's  tide; 

Engulfed,  too,  is  its  cargo — 

My  love — youth's  jewelled  pride. 

Around  the  waves  are  surging, 

But  I  still  float  along, 
Till  pilot-death  will  save  me— - 

I  sail  my  raft  of  song. 


59 


THE  CITY 

Gay  is  the  city — 

My  joy  is  gone ; 
Man-crowded  alleys — 

Why  am  I  lone  ? 

Iron  and  marble — 

I  miss  the  sod ; 
Cloisters,  cathedrals — 

Where  is  my  God? 

Flower-complexions — 
City-wrought  art. 

Bosoms  are  heaving— 
Where  is  a  heart? 

Falsehood  unfettered, 
Truth  under  ban, 

Man-heaps  and  brick-heap; 
Lost  is  the  man. 

Beautyless  virtue — 

Passionless  sin — 
Light  on  the  surface — 

Darkness  within. 

60 


Word  is  convention — 
Smile  is  but  frown — 

Heaven  the  field  made — 
Who  made  the  town? 


61 


UNINVITED 

Song  and  sunshine  in  the  meadow, 
Breeze  and  fragrance  in  the  vale; 

"Why  are  you,"  she  sadly  whispers, 
"Why  are  you  still  lone  and  pale? 

Mother-earth  with  sheen  and  blossom 
Feasts  again  her  day  of  birth ; 

Where  is  then  your  birth-gift,  singer, 
Where  your  song  of  light  and  mirth  ?" 

Dearest  mine,  a  vagrant  step-child 
I  arrived  here  from  the  East, 

Homeless,  friendless,  uninvited 
To  life's  spring — its  golden  feast. 

Here  my  only  mate  is  autumn — 
Sobbing  gales  and  weeping  skies ; 

Autumn  through  my  breast  is  sighing, 
Autumn  lurking  in  my  eyes. 

Spring-tide  finds  me  dull  and  silent, 
Frost  in  spring  invades  my  breast; 

Lone  I  watch  the  feast  of  sunshine 
As  an  uninvited  guest. 


62 


IN  A  SUMMER  NIGHT 

I  look  out  through  my  window 

Into  the  summer  night, 
The  avenues  are  blazing 

Alit  with  purple  light. 

Each  house — a  magic  tower, 
Each  pane — a  giant's  eye; 

Each  lamp — a  moon  of  crystal 
Suspended  from  on  high. 

Mysterious  gates  are  opened, 
In  pairs  the  people  stream, 

They  smile,  they  talk  in  whispers — 
My  heart  can  guess  the  theme. 

I  dream  these  magic  alleys 

Were  lowered  from  above, 
For  men  to  walk  in  beauty 

And  harmony  and  love. 

^ 

But  why  that  far  commotion, 
That  distant  noise  and  hue? 

The  urchins  there  are  stoning 
An  aged,  bearded  Jew. 


I  hear  the  urchins'  laughter, 
I  see  the  human  stream; 

Gay  couples  smile  and  whisper — • 
My  heart  can  guess  the  theme. 

The  magic  alleys  vanish ; 

With  gloom  my  soul  is  filled; 
The  peddler  weeps  unheeded — 

I  too — my  dream  is  killed. 


A  JEWISH  MOTHER 

Have  you  seen   her  eyes  enkindled  with   a  moon-lit 

solemn  light, 
As  she   leans  above   her   baby   through   the  sleepless 

winter-night  ? 

Have  you  heard  her  voice  aquiver  as  she  sings  her 

cradle-song, 
As  she  praises  heaven's  mercy  while  decrying  human 

wrong  ? 

"Life  is  patience"  is  her  maxim;    "Live  and  wait"— 

she  bids  her  boy; 
There  is  happiness  in  wisdom,  in  God's  word — eternal 

joy- 

"Under  your  cradle  is  hid 
A  pretty,  a  white  little  kid ; 
Under  your  cradle  she  dwells, 
Raisins  and  almonds  she  sells, 
Raisins  and  almonds  you  buy, 
Torah — God's  law — from  on  high. 
Raisins  and  almonds  are  sweet, 
Torah  will  make  you  discreet, 
Wisdom  and  strength  to  you  give, 
Teach  you  to  suffer  and  live" 

6s 


See  this  tiny,  fragile  infant — gazelle  eyes  and  hair  of 

silk; 
Giant   strength    he    is    imbibing   with    each    drop   of 

mother's  milk. 

Thus  her  mother-heart  was  fashioned  by  the  centuries 

of  wrong — 
Not  a  dove-heart  half  so  tender,  not  a  tigress  half  so 

strong. 

If  you  know  the  Jewish  mother,  then  perchance  you 

understand 
Why  the  Jew  is  death-defying,  hunted  though  in  every 

land. 


66 


EASTERN  LULLABY 

Sleep,  my  little  angel,  sleep, 

Do  not  toss  and  do  not  weep. 

The  night  is  deaf,  the  night  is  blind- 
Three  nurses  watch  your  cot  behind — 
The  sun,  the  eagle  and  the  wind. 

Stays  the  eagle  in  his  nest, 

Hides  the  sun  beyond  the  west. 
All  alone  the  wind  does  roam 
Over  land  and  over  foam; 
And  to  mother  he  comes  home. 

Asks  his  mother :   "Where  were  you 

All  these  long,  these  cold  nights  through, 
Did  you  put  out  moon  and  star, 
Did  you  fight  the  waves  afar?" 
"Nay,  the  waves  I  did  not  fight, 

Nor  the  stars  put  out  by  night. 

The  night  was  robed  in  darkness  deep 
And  I  heard  a  baby  weep — 
-So  I  rocked  it  to  its  sleep." 


LOVERS 

Soul  of  my  soul,  look  at  the  stars — 
Sapphires  scattered  through  ivory  bars. 

One  more  hand-clasp,  one  more  kiss — 
One  more  moment  of  love  and  bliss. 

Free  is  the  heart  as  the  mountain  and  dell — 
Let  us  prolong  for  a  moment  the  spell. 

Life  has  so  much  in  a  moment  to  give — 
How  many  moments  like  this  can  one  live? 

Bent  is  your  father,  your  mother  is  old — 
What  do  they  know  of  a  heaven  of  gold? 

Age  has  extinguished  youth's  flame  in  their  ey< 
What  do  they  know  of  a  star-burning  sky? 

Can  they  remember  a  star-night — a  dream 
Luring  to  moon-bewitched  forest  and  stream? 

Soul  of  my  soul — the  night  is  so  fair, 
Stars  and  the  violets  kindle  the  air, 

Stars  and  the  violets  kindle  the  blood — 
We  are  alone — and  love  is  so  good. 
68 


Wine  is  the  air,  and  velvet  the  field — 
Who  to  the  pulses  of  youth  will  not  yield? 

We  are  alone — oh,  nay,  not  alone — 
God,  and  the  heaven,  and  lovers,  are  one. 


NOTHING  MORE 

Think  all  night  and  think  all  day, 
This  way,  that  way,  every  way — 
Life,  at  best,  is  but  a  play — 
Nothing  more! 

Meditate  or  reason  hard — 
Scoff  may  cynic,  dream  may  bard — 
Life  is  but  a  sharper's  card — 
Nothing  more ! 

Let  us  then  make  up  our  mind : 
Fate — our  guide — is  deaf  and  blind- 
Chance  is  whipping  it  behind — 
Nothing  more! 


70 


LOVE 

Sweetly  the  nightingale  sang,  and  the  echo 
Carried  a  passionate  thrill  through  the  grove ; 

Yielding  she  fell  in  her  lover's  embraces — 
Heaven,  reveal  not  the  secret  of  love ! 

Sadly  the  nightingale  sang  at  her  window, 
Weepingly  answered  the  heavens  above. 

Silent  her  burning  tears  streamed  on  her  pillow — 
Heaven,  reveal  not  the  torture  of  love! 

Sombre,  and  silent  the  river  was  flowing, 

Girding  with  sadness  the  vale  and  the  grove — 

Mutely  the  black  stream  embraced  and  engulfed  her- 
Heaven,  reveal  not  the  treason  of  love! 


A  SPARK  FROM  A  WINDOW 

A  spark  from  a  window,  a  rap  at  a  door, 

A  barefooted  step  of  a  maid ; 
A  whisper,  a  handshake,  a  kiss  in  the  dark ; 

Two  young  daring  hearts,  yet  afraid. 

The  faces  unseen,  and  yet  glowing  alit, 

The  room  wrapped  in  gloom — yet  too  light ; 

The  lips  that  are  mute  and  the  hearts  that 

talk  loud ; 
The  eyes  full  of  sunshine  by  night. 

The  slow-waning  moon,  the  horizon  pale-blue, 
The  breeze  and  the  vanishing  star ; 

A  handshake,  a  kiss,  stealthy  steps  and  the 

dawn — 
A  whisper — good-night — from  afar.  .  .  . 


LILIES  THAT  FADE 

Lilies  that  fade  like  the  spell  of  a  sunset, 

Who  has  not  cherished  them  sometime  in  life? 

Who  has  not  dreamt  of  them,  loved  them  and  lived 

them 
Lilies — a  sweetheart,  a  child  or  a  wife  ? 

Lilies  that  fade — the  first  blush  of  a  lover, 
Lilies  that  fade — the  first  smile  of  a  child, 

Who  has  not  dreamt  of  them,  loved  them  and  lived 

them, 
When  autumn  the  blossoms  of  life  has  defiled  ? 


73 


WORTH  WHILE 

I  have  heard  you  complaining  and  whining, 
As  if  stars  in  the  skies  were  not  shining, 

And  my  muse  has  demanded  a  song — 
To  tell  you,  my  friend,  you  are  wrong ! 

There  is  Spring  with  its  life-throbbing  bosom, 
There  are  meadows  all  radiant  with  blossom, 

There  are  children  to  render  the  earth 
A  dream-land  of  laughter  and  mirth. 

There  is  nature  for  those  who  will  read  it, 
There  is  beauty  for  those  who  will  heed  it, 

Be  the  heaven  reserved  for  the  blest — 
There  are  flowers  and  stars  for  the  rest. 

There  is  woman — Man's  Goddess — world 

over, 
There  is  man  to  adore  her  and  love  her, 

There  is  love  and  devotion  and  truth, 
As  real  and  as  fragrant  as  youth. 
74 


There  are  heights  where  no  souls  have  yet 

hovered, 
There  are  emerald  isles  undiscovered, 

There  is  bliss  unexplored  and  unnamed, 
There  is  happiness  waiting  unclaimed. 

A  smile  in  each  tear-drop  is  hidden, 
In  each  desert— a  beautiful  Eden- 
Life's  laughter  rings  loud  from  each  tomb, 
Each  winter  bears  spring  in  its  womb. 

And  when  things  appear  vague  and  uncertain, 
Endeavor  to  lift  nature's  curtain; 

There  is  search-work  for  heart  and  for  mind, 
And  prizes  for  searchers  who  find. 


75 


FOR  THE  MESSIAH  * 

By  the  Jordan  stands  a  smithy, 
And  a  blacksmith  in  his  smithy 

Day  and  night  is  toiling. 
Up  and  down  his  bellows  going, 
Piff!  Puff!  blowing,  blowing, 

Rising  and  recoiling. 

Molten  fire-snakes  environ 
Both  the  anvil  and  the  iron 

Tongues  of  flame  disgorging. 
Molten  fire  spitting,  spitting 
While  the  hammer  hitting,  hitting 

Is  the  iron  forging. 

Hit,  hit,  hammer  quicker, 

Let  the  sparklets  fly  and  flicker, 

And  in  pools  expire. 
Piff!  puff!  bellows  blowing. 
Flim !  flame !  sparklets  flowing, 

Like  a  rain  of  fire. 

"Swarthy  Smith,  what  art  thou  making?"- 
"I  am  forging,  I  am  breaking 

•  .I  — 

*  Free  from  the  Hebrew  after  Frishmann. 
76 


Iron  sharp  and  pointed, — 
For  Messiah's  steed  a  horse-shoe — 
Hu-rah!  I  am  forging 

For  the  King  anointed."  ' 

By  the  Jordan  sits  a  weaver, 
At  his  loom  the  skillful  weaver 

Day  and  night  is  toiling. 
On  the  bobbins  threads  of  cotton, 
Vick !  vick ! — threads  of  cotton 

Spooling  on  and  coiling. 

Through  the  comb  he  draws  the  cotton, 
Draws  the  texture  skill-begotten, 

And  his  task  not  leaving, 
Rapidly  his  treadle  treads  he, 
Rapidly  his  fibres  threads  he 

Ever,  ever  weaving. 
Sun  and  stars  peep  through  his  scuttle, 
Fast  as  arrow  flies  his  shuttle, 

Not  a  moment  slowing. 
To  and  fro  and  hither-thither, 
Zick!  zack!  hither-thither — 

Ever,  ever  going. 

"Weaver,  say,  what  art  thou  making?" 
"Of  my  choicest  stock  I'm  taking 
Cords  and  threads  disjointed, 
And  a  garment  I  am  weaving — 
77 


Hu-rah!  I  am  weaving 

For  the  King  anointed." 
By  the  Jordan  lively,  gaily, 
An  embroid'rer  working  daily 

Never,  never  tires. 
Pick!   pick!   stitching,  taping — 
Multicolored  patterns  shaping, 

Just  as  he  requires. 

Eye  to  eyelet,  stitch  to  stitches, 
As  by  magic  of  the  witches, 

Fly  his  skillful  fingers  ; 
Gold  and  silk  and  silver  fret-work — 
Breathe  with  life  upon  his  net-work — 

He  nor  stops  nor  lingers. 

Pick!  pick!  fast  and  faster 
Fly  the  fingers  of  the  master, 

Dexterous  and  steady. 
Pick!  pick!  never  dropping, 
Pick !  pick !  never  stopping, 

Till  the  work  is  ready. 

"What,  embroid'rer,  art  thou  fitting, 
Why  are  thus  thy  fingers  flitting 

At  their  task  appointed?" 
"I  the  banner  am  embroid'ring — 
Hu-rah!  am  embroid'ring 

For  the  King  anointed." 

78 


Angels  six  through  Heaven  winging 
To  the  Lord  their  praises  singing, 

Onward,  onward  pressing 
At  the  throne  of  God  Almighty, 
Hu-rah !  God  Almighty, 

Pray  for  heaven's  blessing. 


All  that's  fairest,  all  that's  rarest, 
And  the  nearest,  and  the  dearest 

That  to  man  is  given, 
All  that's  pure  and  good  and  noble, 
That  in  hours  of  joy  or  trouble 

Man  sends  up  to  heaven; 


Pride  and  truth  and  strength  and  passion, 
Grace  and  pity  and  compassion, 

Mercy  never  ending, 
Faith  and  hope  and  love  and  beauty, 
Hu-rah!  love  and  beauty — 

Mixing  all  and  blending. 


"What  then,  angels,  are  you  making?" 
"We  are  gathering  and  taking 

Things  for  us  appointed. 
Out  of  these  we  shape  the  Spirit — 
Hu-rah !  Shape  the  Spirit 

Of  the  King  anointed." 
79 


"But,  alas,  our  earthly  brothers, 
Smith  and  weaver  and  all  others 

Have  their  work  completed, 
While  our  stuff  is  not  yet  blended, 
And  our  work  is  not  yet  ended — 

Thus  our  aim — defeated. 

See,  we  are  not  even  near  it — 
The  completion  of  the  Spirit 

With  the  stuff  we're  given: 
Frail  all  human  hopes  and  fears  are, 
Frail  all  human  smiles  and  tears  are 

When  they  reach  the  heaven. 

Human  kindness  lasts  an  hour, 
Powerless  is  human  power, 

And  his  lave — we  fear  it! 
Woe  to  us,  we  haven't  enough  yet, 
Woe  to  us,  we  haven't  the  stuff  yet, 

For  Messiah's  Spirit. 

Thus  at  nights  when  winds  are  sighing, 
One  can  hear  the  angels  crying, 

Angels  disappointed. 
"Man,  sublime,  is  not  sublime  yet, 
Woe  to  us,  it  is  not  time  yet 

For  the  King  anointed!" 


80 


THE  FOUR  POINTS 

The  North,  I'm  told 
Has  mines  of  gold, 

But  there  I  will  not  go ; 
For  all  that's  sold 
And  bought  for  gold 

Is  cold  as  northern  snow. 

The  South's  delight 
Is  wine  and  light, 

But  there  I  will  not  go ; 
For  light,  I  find, 
Like  wine,  may  blind 

Man's  sight  with  dazzling  glow. 

The  West  has  eyes, 
The  West  is  wise, 

But  there  I  will  not  go; 
For  aeons  far 
From  truth  we  are 

The  more  we  deem  we  know. 

The  East  has  streams 
That  flow  with  dreams, 

And  there,  oh  there  I'll  go 
For  dreams,  in  truth, 
Are  light  and  youth — 

They  make  my  soul-wings  grow. 
81 


THE  BOOK 

A  book  upon  my  table 
Lies  open  day  and  night; 

I  read  it  and  re-read  it 
With  ever-fresh  delight. 

I  read  it  and  re-read  it, 
And  never  have  enough; 

It  speaks  the  heart  of  nature, 
It  speaks  the  soul  of  love. 

I  hear  in  it  the  tempest 
Of  deserts  wide  and  far; 

The  rush  of  rapid  rivers, 
The  light-hymn  of  a  star ; 

The  echo  of  the  mountains, 
The  flight  of  human  soul, 

The  searching  and  the  seeking 
Of  Man's  immortal  goal. 

A  book  that  never  ages, 

That  breathes  perennial  youth; 
A  book  whose  flaming  pages 

Impress  with  flaming  truth. 
82 


I  know  it  will  inspire 

And  thrill  with  force  divine 
The  heart  of  coming  ages 

As  it  is  thrilling  mine ; 

I  feel  its  truth  immortal 
In  every  sound  and  breath, 

And  know  that  souls  are  deathless, 
And  know  there  is  no  death. 


"ELUL" 

The  Elul  month  is  here : 
I  hear  the  Shofar  blow; 

It  brings  my  childhood  back, 
The  fair-sad  long  ago. 

My  father  clasps  my  hand, 
And  whispers  in  my  ear; 

"To  Shul,  my  boy,  to  Shul— 
The  'fearful  days'  are  near." 

A  mist  enveils  the  field, 
The  leaves  fall  off  the  tree, 

And  as  they  fall  they  speak 
In  warning  tones  to  me: 

"Fair  summer's  bloom  and  song 
To  gloom  and  cold  must  yield ; 

There  comes  a  judgment  day 
For  man  and  wood  and  field." 


A  JEALOUS  GOD 

(From  the  Talmud) 

"Akibah,"  once  King  Rufus  said : 
"Thou  art  in  learning  high  ; 
Thy  people  hold  thee  great  and  wise  — 
Now  canst  thou  tell  me  why — 

Your  mighty  God,  the  Lord  of  Hosts — 

You  will  admit  it  odd — 
So  jealous  is  He  will  not  have 

You  call  an  idol,  God?" 

The  Rabbi  stood  and  for  a  while 

King  Rufus  quietly  eyed  ; 
And  then  a  smile  lit  up  his  face, 

As  calmly  he  replied: 

"My  King!    I  had  a  mangy  dog, 

And  Rufus  was  its  name.  .  ." 
But  pale  with  rage  the  king  exclaimed : 
"This  is  unheard  of  shame! 

How  dare  you  call  by  kingly  name 
A  cur — a  wretched  thing!  .  .  ." 

The  Rabbi  smiled  again,  and  said: 
"There  is  your  answer,  King!" 

85 


MY  GOD 

And  should  you  ask  for  the  name  of  my  God, 

His  nature,  His  dwelling,  His  power, 
I  could  not  tell,  for  He  lives  in  the  clouds, 

As  oft  as  He  lives  in  a  flower. 

And  should  you  ask  for  the  voice  of  my  God, 

I  could  but  point  to  the  wonder 
That  often  I  hear  Him  converse  through  the  breeze, 

And  oft  through  the  storm  and  the  thunder. 

And  as  to  His  dwelling — I'm  made  to  believe 

His  palace  the  high  stars  is  over; 
But  sometimes  I  feel  that  He  dwells  in  an  eye, 

When  I  look  at  the  gaze  of  a  lover. 

And  sometimes  I  think  that  I  am  a  God 

That  He  of  me  but  a  part  is ; 
For  heaven  and  earth  are  reflected  in  me, 

And  His  habitation — my  heart  is. 


86 


WHITE  AND  BLUE 

White  and  blue — all  white  and  blue 
Is  the  banner  of  the  Jew ; 
White  as  foam,  and  blue  as  sea, 
Wave-like  pure,  and  wave-like  free, 
From  the  God-land  of  his  birth 
Sent  to  earth. 

White  and  blue — all  white  and  blue- 
All  the  black-red  ages  through, 
Hordes  of  martyrs  passing  on, 
Waving  banners  in  the  sun : 
''Man,  but  to  thyself  be  true — 
White  and  blue!" 

White  and  blue — all  white  and  blue! 
Hermon-white  and  Jordan  blue, 
Ages  old,  but  ever  new — 
'Man,  be  brave! 
Be  no  slave! 

Not  the  many,  but  the  few 
Strong  of  heart,  and  pure,  and  true, 
Will  re-paint  the  world  anew — 
White  and  blue!" 


TO  OUR  PIONEERS 

When  I  dream  of  you,  comrades,  your  struggle  and 

pain, 
How  you  tried  and  you  failed,  and  you  tried  once 

again, 

From  the  rise  of  the  sun  to  its  purple  eclipse, 
With  a  hoe  in  your  hand,  with  a  song  on  your  lips ; 

You  the  noble,  the  young,  unaccustomed  to  toil, 
With  no  help  and  no  cheer,  save  your  love  for  the  soil, 

With  your  sickle  and  plow  under  East-burning  skies, 
With  a  flame  in  your  blood  and  a  flame  in  your  eyes, 

With  a  love-brimming  heart,  and  a  faith-glowing  soul, 
And  a  vision  afar,  and  a  beckoning  goal, 

And  a  dream  of  a  dawn  that  you  knew  would  come 

true — 
Oh,  dear  comrades,  I  blush  that  I  was  not  with  you; 

That  I  helped  not  the  road  of  the  future  to  pave ; 
Build  for  Freedom  a  home,  dig  for  Exile  a  grave. 

88 


But  before  in  my  heart  all  my  cherished  dreams  fade, 
I  shall  join  you,  dear  comrades,  with  plow  and  with 
spade, 

That  my  soul  might  be  cleansed  of  its  slavery-stain, 
That  my  last  words  may  be :  "I  have  lived  not  in  vain !" 


A  SEMITE 

The  prophets  of  old  in  my  soul  left  a  spark — 
To  search  in  the  dark. 

I  wander  by  winding,  by  fate-concealed  ways 
To  the  end  of  the  days. 

I  dream  a  new  sunrise,  I  dream  a  new  morn 
Of  ages  unborn. 

A  beacon  my  heart  is,  a  compass — my  soul, 
With  Zion  as  goal. 

There  still  gleams  a  ray  in  my  far-visioned  eyes 
Of  east-glowing  skies. 

I  long  for  the  palm-land,  its  lakes  and  its 

streams — 
There  still  float  my  dreams. 

I  pine  for  the  soil  that  my  ancestors  trod, — 
There  still  lives  my  God. 


90 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  PEDDLER 

The  field  or  the  garden — the  grain  or  the  grape ! 
But  can  I — a  peddler — my  life-path  re-shape, 
And  run  from  my  fate  and  the  city  escape? 

The  ghetto-slums  nursed  me,  and  there  I  was  bred, 
No  grass  under  foot,  and  no  sun  overhead, 
I  sweated,  I  peddled,  I  bartered  for  bread. 

For  pennies,  for  pennies,  my  life  I  have  sold, 
I  never  have  known  that  the  heaven  had  gold, 
That  meadows  had  pearls  unsearched  for,  untold. 

In  rags  and  in  bones  and  in  scraps  was  my  trade, 
I  knew  not  the  blessing  of  blossom  and  blade, 
To  toil,  and  to  rest  after  toil  in  the  shade. 

When  thirsty — to  drink  from  a  crystal-clear  spring, 
And  gaze  at  the  grain  in  the  breezes  aswing, 
And  hear  in  the  distance  the  harvesters  sing. 

I  knew  not  the  bliss  and  the  blessing  of  toil, 
The  pride  of  the  man  who  has  conquered  the  soil, 
And  shared  in  the  booty,  and  ate  of  its  spoil. 


From  city  to  city  forever  I'm  thrown, 
Brick  of  its  brick  and  stone  of  its  stone, 
A  peddler,  a  peddler — despised  and  alone. 

And  yet  there  is  something  still  left  in  my  blood 
That  tells  me  the  blade  and  the  blossom  are  good- 
And  I  will  go  back  to  the  field  and  the  wood. 


92 


EXILE 

No,  you're  wrong!     It  is  not  I- 
Exile  in  my  song  does  cry. 

I  came  out  to  meet  the  day 
On  a  morning  of  a  May, 
With  my  harp  to  sing  and  play. 


And  a  sky-lark  in  the  air 
Bade  me  sing  while  earth  was  fair, 
While  the  heavens  sang  above, 
While  my  heart  re-echoed  love. 

Soon  as  I  began  to  sing 

Snap  they  went  string  after  string, 

Visions  black,  and  anguish  sharp 

Took  possession  of  my  harp ; 

Exile  fingered  it — not  I — 

And  my  song  came  out  a  sigh. 

Then  a  raven  from  its  nest 
Harshly  cawed :  "Fate's  sad  bequest 
Will  your  song  with  sadness  fill, 
Make  it  weep  against  your  will ; 
93 


Those  who  sorrows  of  their  tribe 
With  their  mother's  milk  imbibe 
Cannot  sing.    Their  hopes  are  fears, 
And  their  sweetest  songs  are  tears." 


94 


THE  ESROG 

The  Day  of  Atonement  is  over ; 

My  father  an  Esrog  has  bought, 
And  never  the  eyes  of  a  lover 

Did  sparkle  as  his,  when  he  brought 

And  showed  us  the  fruit  that  was  shining 

With  sheen  of  a  tropical  star, 
The  fruit  for  which  hearts  are  still  pining 

From  homeland  long  exiled  and  far. 

And  never  was  valued  a  jewel 

As  dear  as  the  fruit  was  by  him — 

A  value  the  centuries  cruel 

Could  neither  efface  nor  bedim. 

I  looked  at  the  Esrog  the  golden, 
And  dreamt  of  the  orchards  of  gold, 

I  dreamt  of  the  ages  the  olden 

That  never  in  hearts  will  grow  old. 

I  dreamt  of  the  rills  and  the  fountains 
That  watered  those  gardens  of  yore, 

The  plains  and  the  vales  and  the  mountains 
That  blossomless,  blossom  the  more.  .   . 
95 


I  looked  at  my  father  caressing 

The  fruit  that  bejewelled  his  feast, 

And  mutely  my  heart  sent  a  blessing 
To  Zion — the  Queen  of  the  East.  . 


THE  PEDDLER  PRINCE 

In  the  Synagogue  half  fallen, 

Cobweb  covered,  dank  and  damp, 

By  the  withered,  gilt-edged  tablets 
And  half  quenched  "Eternal  lamp" 

He  is  chanting  every  morning 
Songs  of  David — ancient  psalms, 

And  his  kindled  eyes  are  gazing 
On  a  grove  of  breeze-tossed  palms. 

To  and  fro  his  head  is  moving 
In  the  shadows  dim  and  weird; 

Through  the  dust-stained  pane  a  sunbeam 
Gilds  his  long,  his  silver  beard. 

Though  the  Service  long  is  ended, 

And  the  congregation  gone, 
Still  resounds  his  doleful  sing-song 

Like  an  echo  far  and  lone. 

"Zion,  Zion,  Land  of  beauty, 

Sky-bejewelled  is  thy  soil.  .  .  " 
Though  the  House  of  God  is  emptied 
For  the  house  of  sweat  and  toil. 
97 


Land  of  Beauty,  Land  of  David — 
Plain  and  grove  and  vale  and  hill, 

Where  his  Kings  of  yore  have  trodden 
He  in  dreams  is  treading  still. 

Land  of  Beauty — foe-invaded — 
Unforgotten  ever  since.  .  . 

Stranger,  stand  aside,  don't  wake  him — 
This  old  peddler  is  a  Prince. 


MESSIAH 

My  brother,  wait ! 

From  Zion's  hill 
Or  soon,  or  late — 

Arrive  he  will! 

Enrobed  in  light 
He'll  wind  his  horn, 

And  drive  the  night, 
And  light  the  morn, 

Unchain  the  earth, 

Renew  its  youth, 
And  give  re-birth 

To  Life  and  Truth. 

Life's  stream  bedimmed 
With  lust  and  greed, 

Is  overbrimmed 

With  blood-stained  weed. 

And  man  unmanned 

In  manless  strife 
Has  long  unplanned 

The  plan  of  life. 
99 


Till  life  is  dim 

And  man  is  slave — 
So  wait  for  him 

To  come  and  save. 

Look  up  the  hill, 

Dream  on  thy  dream, 
For  come  he  will — 

He  must  redeem ! 


100 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
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DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
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JUL 


1940 


LD  21-100m-7,'39(402s) 


Raskin, 


£225 
w 


linen  a  SOUL  sings 


943966 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


